


Unwinding

by MissjuliaMiriam



Series: Willow [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consent Issues, Dom/sub Undertones, Happy Sex, M/M, Mild Kink, Oral Sex, PWP, Praise Kink, Riding, Rimming, mentions of past non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4355786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam/pseuds/MissjuliaMiriam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We've got time," he says. "For all I know, I'll only get one night with you. I want to savour."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwinding

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT NON-CON. There ARE some consent issues related to Fenris being kind of fucked up, but they sort it out. Still, I figured I ought to tag for it.
> 
> Anyway, this is basically just the PWP follow-up to Chapter 2 of Time Will Tell. Enjoy!

“Wait.”

The word is a gasp. The Iron Bull pulls away immediately, looks down at the elf pinned below him, and after a calculating moment sits back and removes himself completely. Fenris is mussed, panting and beautiful in his arousal, but there is something lurking in those sage eyes. In all honestly, the Bull is surprised that they had gotten even this far- he knows what Fenris has been through, or at least has some idea.

“What do you need?” he asks, and waits while Fenris clears his throat. He looks abruptly uncomfortable.

“I might become- afraid,” Fenris says. “I do want this. I want you, and I want the release. But even with a woman, sometimes being together in this way,” he gestures at the Bull's naked chest, his own obvious arousal, “it makes me remember.”

“If you have a flashback, we'll stop,” the Bull promises. He knows Fenris needs this. H's been wound tighter than a spool of yarn, recovering from a twisted ankle and trapped, largely immobile, for days. Even before that, though. Fenris is a tactile and sultry creature, inclined to touch and to pleasure, though he certainly knows how to use violence as his method of releasing tension, and does so often. Without any release, though, and with months upon months of going without another person's touch behind him, the Bull had taken a chance and offered Fenris a place in his bed. He'd almost been surprised at the elf's agreement, ready to withdraw the offer at any moment if Fenris had seemed uncomfortable, or if the consent had seemed coerced. He's well aware of his own position of power, and he'll never want this from Fenris from that particular angle. Still, he's seen the way Fenris looks at him sometimes, so he supposes he wasn't that surprised.

“Oh,” Fenris says. The Bull realizes he's checked out a bit, thinking about his own pleasure in having Fenris here. The elf looks surprised, almost startled. “We don't have to stop,” he says. “I only meant, if I struggle, or if I get- distracted. Don't worry. It passes; you can carry on.”

The Bull recoils. “I wouldn't,” he says. “Fenris, I would never.”

There's clearly been a miscommunication somewhere, because that only makes Fenris more confused. “I don't-” Fenris stops, then tries again. He sits up, then says, “I want this to be good for you. You don't need to coddle me, even though you know what- what happened to me.”

“It's not _coddling_ ,” the Bull says, fury rising in him, fully directed toward whoever the _fuck_ took Fenris to bed, fucked him into a flashback, and just kept going. “It's common fucking decency, Fenris- if you're remembering being raped while you're in my bed, I'm doing something wrong.”

“It's not you,” Fenris says. “Really, it always passes, you needn't worry.” His tone is soothing, like he's trying to comfort the Iron Bull. It fucking burns, it's so wrong.

“No,” the Bull says, firm. “If you have a flashback, I'm going to stop. If I do something that scared you or makes you remember, you're going to tell me, and I'm going to stop. If I hurt you in a way you don't like, or you get overwhelmed, or _anything_ , you tell me, and I will stop.” He stares Fenris down, then says, “Got it?”

Fenris blinks up at him. “Okay,” he says. “If you wish.”

The Bull doesn't have the means right now to explain that that's not really what he meant. He considers just putting a stop to it all right now, sending Fenris away, but that might do more harm that good. More, it's not that he doesn't think Fenris can give consent- he trusts him to know his own mind. It's just that he doesn't seem to know that he can take that consent back once they've started. “You can use the Qunlat word if you want,” he says, instead of saying _I can't do this_. “Katoh. Or just say stop. I'll listen, I promise.”

Fenris nods, slowly, then lies back against the pillows. He reaches out with one hand and places it on the Bull's chest, for lack of ability to reach his shoulder. “Okay,” he says again. “I don't need it, but if that's what you want.”

“It is,” Bull says, still serious. Fenris is a free man, but sometimes he still needs - well, doesn't need, but _wants_ \- approval from another. He wants to obey, rather than having to make every decision for himself, or else he simply doesn't feel strongly enough about something and would in that case prefer to follow someone else's will. It's something that will probably always be part of him, the Bull thinks, and he's glad to be there to give that direction. He'll never take advantage, but some wouldn't be so scrupulous. “I want you to tell me, Fenris. I don't want to keep going if I'm hurting you.”

"My old master used to say that the fear made me tight. Pain, too." Fenris makes this comment in an off-hand way, as he tends to do when talking about his past. It's a sign of his recovery, the Iron Bull thinks, but it's also very fucking disturbing at times. Several times he's had to calm Krem after his kind-hearted lieutenant had taken the full force of one of those calm disclosures.

"I think you'll be plenty tight," the Bull says, instead of giving in to anger and sorrow. "Bendy though you are, you're half my size."

Fenris grins, feral, and with returning arousal in his gaze. "I like that," he says. "Now, come here. At this rate it'll be dawn before I get you in me."

The Bull chuckles and acquiesces, leaning down and capturing Fenris's lips. As he does so, he strokes his hands down Fenris's sides. He probably couldn't get his hands all the way around Fenris's waist, but it would be close, and he's almost tempted to try - for Fenris's thin gasp as the air was squeezed out of him if nothing else. Bull is momentarily distracted by an imagine of Fenris in a corset, his waist tapered to improbability, but he's pulled back by Fenris writhing against his hands, arching up against the Bull's bulk. It's very gratifying to feel the swell of Fenris's cock against his stomach, and to know that only a kiss and a simple touch could do that to him.

"Oil," Fenris says, the word a breath against the Bull's lips, but the Bull only shakes his head.

"We've got time," he says. "For all I know, I'll only get one night with you. I want to savour."

Fenris is tense, taught with arousal and urgency, but only for a moment before he goes liquid beneath the Bull. The breath slips from his lungs in a long, low slide, and he tilts his head back, languid. "I've never been with a man who wanted it that way," he admits, trailing a hand down the Bull's chest. The touch lingers, delicate enough that the Bull can barely it. "Even Hawke was often impatient."

Fenris talks about Hawke even less than he talks about his days as a slave. "You like it slow?" the Bull asks, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Fenris's throat and shoulder, tasting leather and salt. "How do you want it?"

Fenris considers, pressing into the Bull's lips as he does. "I'd like to be on top," he says. "No preference beyond that."

The Iron Bull hums, turning that over in his mind, then he says, "Let me spoil you a bit first, then you can sit in my lap and I'll have you nice and slow and deep."

Fenris moans, and is so beautifully pliant when the Bull strips him out of his leggings and his smalls and flips him onto his front. The silver tracery in his skin contrasts with all the parts of him that are smooth brown in a way that is absolutely eye-catching, and the Bull can't help running his blunt fingers over those delicate lines. The ones on Fenris's back are different to those on his front, and they continue across the curve of his ass and down his legs, curling into the shadowed places in his inner thighs. He's so fucking stunning, the Bull thinks, and he leans down once more to press his mouth to those silver lines on Fenris's thighs. He laves them with his tongue, then encourages Fenris to tuck his knees up and under him, baring his entrance for consideration. His cock hangs long and slender between his legs, and the Bull almost can't resist putting his mouth there, too, but he hold back. He'd had other plans a few minutes ago, and he still has them.

The noise Fenris makes when the Iron Bull licks broad across his hole is fucking stunning - a ragged moan caught somewhere high in his throat, trailing into a whimper that would have been a cry if it had had a little more volume. If the Bull hadn't been hard before, he definitely is now; his whole body thrums with answering arousal. He repeats the motion, and Fenris moans like he's dying - he's so sensitive, he's already close to shaking beneath the Bull's hands. But the Bull knows from one particularly drunken night around the campfire that Fenris can't come without someone touching his cock, or at least he never has before, so the Bull's free to rim the elf until he cries if that's what he wants. And he does want. So he does.

It's been a while since Fenris went to bed with anyone, but it's clear that he has a lot of experience as a bottom. He relaxes quickly, takes the Bull's tongue easily, thrusting back against the Qunari's mouth and gasping into the cradle of his arms. He doesn't fight it at all, just enjoys, and the Bull finds himself grinning more than once at the hedonistic pleasure that is reflected in every one of Fenris's movements. He's such a sensual creature, so beautiful and so _suited_ to arousal and to pleasure; it makes the hardships he's been through all that much more of a travesty. Still, that darkness has been banished into the past once more, at least for the time being, and in the wake of their earlier conversation this kind of sex, the good, happy kind, feels great.

The Bull is extremely disappointed when his mouth gets tired, but he's so hard it's painful, so he draws away and strips out of his pants and his knee brace. When he turns back, Fenris has rolled onto his side and is watching him with lazy, pleasure-hazed eyes.

"Hello," Fenris says.

The Bull smiles. "Hey. Gonna stretch you out now. Get you ready for me."

"Let me do it," Fenris says. He brandishes the bottle of oil that he must have fetched while the Bull was undressing. "Unless you really want to."

"I do like to watch," the Bull admits. He crawls back onto the bed, mindful of his knee, and then helps Fenris to arrange them both. The Bull sits back against the headboard, and Fenris kneels in front of him, his back to the Bull. His view isn't perfect, but when Fenris slides a slick hand between his legs, the Bull can see just enough to tantalize, and just enough is hidden to be a fantastic tease.

He can tell when Fenris slides the first finger inside. He takes his time about it, teases himself and the Bull both, but eventually his own impatience overwhelms him. Just a fingertip at first, but he rocks his hips into the slight penetration, gasps and arches, and takes as much of his own finger as he can. He's loose from the Bull's mouth, and soon he's fucking himself on two fingers, then three, trying to stretch himself as much as he can. The Bull strokes himself as he watches, enjoys Fenris's small noises and the motion of his hips, and takes some leisurely pleasure from his own hand. Fenris casts his gaze over his shoulder, meets the Bull's eyes, and leans forward so that the Bull can see him fit a fourth slender finger inside himself. He's stretched wide and glistening just the tiniest bit from the oil, and when his hand flexes, his fingers curling and spreading inside, he moans into the blankets beneath his face. The Bull just watches, all his senses greedy, but doesn't reach out.

"Can you take a fist?" the Bull asks, without really considering the question before it's tripped off his tongue. There's a moment of hesitation, and he almost regrets it; Fenris may not know the answer, and if he does, it's probably not for pleasant reasons.

And yet. "My own, certainly," Fenris says, easy enough. His voice is wrecked, and catches halfway through when he draws his hand back and thrusts in again. "Yours would take some work."

"Worth it," the Bull declares, then gives in and grabs Fenris's hips, pulling him closer. Fenris goes with it, turning to plaster himself to the Bull's chest and straddle his lap. His legs are spread obscenely wide, and the Bull can feel the slickness of his entrance as Fenris rocks himself against the Bull's cock. "Good," he grunts, and grabs the bottle of oil to slick a few of his own fingers. When three slide in with only a small amount of resistance, he bites the tip of one of Fenris's ears, prompting a halfway broken cry, and then gives him the oil. "Slick my cock, please?" he asks, and then groans when one of those powerful, calloused hands wraps around him. Fenris is impatient, strokes the Bull's cock only just enough to coat it in oil, and then presses close once more.

"Turn around." Fenris obeys the order readily, and kneels up a bit, offering himself. The Bull presses the wide head of his cock to Fenris's entrance. "Ready?"

"Fuck me," Fenris begs. "I've been ready for an age."

"Good," the Bull says again, and guides Fenris's hips downward. He enters Fenris in a slow, inexorable slide, sinking into the heat of Fenris's body and relishing in the slickness. Fenris feels so good around him - but he's tenser than he should be, the Bull realizes once he's bottomed out. He looses his grip on Fenris's hips, and says, "You okay?"

Fenris takes a shuddering breath, and the Bull desperately wishes he could see the elf's face. "Yes," Fenris says.

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No - you're just so - fuck. So deep." Fenris chokes the words out. "So hot. It's not quite like - but I'm reminded of - sorry. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. You want to stop?" the Bull asks, and readies himself to pull out. It'll suck not to get off at this point, but he can always manage by himself, with the memories he's just made and more than a few fantasies; it'll suck more to damage his relationship with Fenris - or, worse, to damage Fenris himself.

"I'm okay," Fenris says, and though he doesn't entirely sound it, he leans back against the Bull's chest, tipping his head so that white hair spills across the Bull's shoulder. His eyes are closed. "Just a moment. You feel good inside me. Maker - I don't think I've ever been taken by someone so big."

"I'm glad you like it," the Bull chuckles, and settles back against the headboard, bringing Fenris with him. He lets go of Fenris's hips and wraps his arms around his waist, just loosely; that seems to relax Fenris. "Better?"

"Yes," Fenris murmurs, and rocks his hips experimentally. He doesn't have much leverage, can only manage the slightest shift, but it's enough to make them both catch their breath. Fenris is _so tight_ , and the Bull is sure it feels like he's pressing on every part of Fenris's insides all at once. "Oh," Fenris says, and does it again, then again. It's easy, from there, to settle into a rhythm, with Fenris rolling his hips and the Bull thrusting upward just a little in counterpart. The movement is barely anything at all, but the Bull can feel Fenris's climax building in the way he tenses, can hear it in the sounds he makes. He's so fucking deep it seems impossible. But Fenris takes it beautifully, and when he's been lingering on the edge for what feels like hours, the Bull wraps a hand around his cock and sends him tumbling into oblivion. Fenris doesn't cry out, doesn't scream or writhe - though the Bull thinks he's got that in him, this isn't that kind of night. Instead, Fenris moans, long and low, goes taught, and then goes utterly pliant after he spills into the Bull's hand.

"Keep going," Fenris says, once he's recovered himself a bit. The Bull considers it, and it's truly tempting, but he shakes his head.

"I doubt I'll get off this way," he says. "Not before fucking you completely raw, at least, and not in the fun way."

"Mm," Fenris says. "You can have my mouth."

The Bull draws a sharp breath. He's not going to pretend he hadn't thought about it, but he also hadn't expected Fenris to offer - he'd have been fine with a hand. Still, he's not going to cut off his nose to spite his face. "Sounds good," he says, his voice a rumble so low it's nearly a growl. He lifts Fenris from his cock in one smooth movement, dragging moans from both of them, and then lets the elf coil himself into whatever's comfortable. The position he ends up in actually looks very _uncomfortable_ , but Fenris seems happy when he lowers his mouth to the Bull's cock and swallows him down without any hesitation. He struggles a little at first, but not as much as the Bull had really expected, and once the adjusts to the Bull's size he gives expert head. It's all the Bull can do to lean back and take it. He tangles the fingers of one hand in Fenris's hair, and a steady stream of words falls from his lips, praising Fenris for the heat of his mouth, for his skill, for how good he's been. The last makes Fenris moan, and that's enough to make the Bull come, the world whiting out for a brief moment before he tumbles back into his own body, shuddering in the aftershocks.

Fenris pulls away, lying in a tangle of limbs with his head on the Bull's thigh, and looks up with happy, sated eyes.

"Good?" the Bull asks, and strokes Fenris's hair, brushing his ear as he does.

Fenris closes his eyes and leans into the gentle touch. "Good," he says, and drifts off to sleep. The Bull looks down at him, affectionate, and decides that he can get a cloth to clean them both in a while - for now, he wants to sit in this easy quiet and be comfortable.

**Author's Note:**

> (can u tell i dislike writing blowjobs)
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcome, as always!


End file.
